


The Lonely Hearts Club

by Femalefonzie



Category: Clone High
Genre: Abe is kinda a dumbass, Bromance to Romance, Crushes, F/F, F/M, First Crush, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, High School Drama, Humor, M/M, Pining, Sexual Humor, i never liked his character so my writing of him is kinda biased
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:25:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Femalefonzie/pseuds/Femalefonzie
Summary: Joan of Arc isn’t the only student at Clone High dealing with a crush on an oblivious idiot....





	1. Chapter 1

In all honesty Vincent never expected to fall in love with anyone. He didn’t consider himself to be a normal teenager; popular, going to parties, hanging out on the weekends, road tripping across the country at the beginning of summer, no, he spent the majority of his time in his room painting or reflecting on his own misery. Yes, he had several close friends. Yes, he could have attended those parties or road trips or hang out sessions. But something inside him always pulled the boy back. Something was always whispering in his ear “you’re not good enough” and from there he just assumed that love was never an option.

At first he didn’t mind. Love was messy. How many students around the school had suffered from the result of a terrible break up? Besides this allowed him to focus more on his art which was his one, true, never faltering love. He started talking more and more after class with some the art teacher, started spending his lunches up in the art room so he could work while he eat, and soon enough Vincent had finished a painting that even Scudworth seemed worthy enough to be hung in the hallway just outside of history class. The first day after its instillation, Vincent lingered in the halls, hoping to overhear his fellow students discussing the new piece but to no avail.

Abe Lincoln said it reminded him of melted ice cream on the sidewalk in summer. Cleo said it was a bunch of squiggly lines. Joan, bless her soul, smiled and pointed out some areas of colour and repetition she found interesting, and Vincent smiled back but it wasn’t what he had been going for. It seemed to be a bust until last period gym wrapped up. The artist clone hurriedly changed from his gym clothes back into his normal attire and was in the process of rushing out to catch the last bus home when he spotted someone standing at the end of the hall starring at his painting,

“I have never seen someone so elegantly capture the struggle within man to reach full potential until now.”

Was he talking to him? Vincent looked back over his shoulder to check and see if there was someone following him that he hadn’t picked up on. No. Just him. That was odd. Though he and Caesar weren’t on bad terms, Hell they had even hung out together a couple times prior to this encounter, ever since the Roman had gotten in good with the popular kids his time spent with the artist was dwindling. “What?” Vincent asked just to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“Don’t you see? It’s about ambition, about pressure, about one’s lack of drive to reach the top due to overwhelming fear of failure and expectations from those around them...” Caesar explained, and though he gestured to the work, pointed out evidence of his analysis, he knew better than to touch. “...it’s beautiful.”

How did he know that? No one else in school picked up on his nuisances as elegantly as Caesar did. Even Scudworth who offered to hang the piece in the hall only enjoyed it simply because he believed the deep streaks of burgundy to be the representative of the blood of his enemies.Caesar turned to look at him and suddenly Vincent was very aware of how soft and blue his eyes were, and how strong looking his arms were. The artist could feel his face get hot and he dropped his head to look at the floor, “...You got it.”

Caesar smiled and walked towards him. Vincent became very much aware of how quickly his heart was racing in his chest. The Roman boy placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and gave him a firm but oddly reassuring squeeze. “Excellent work.” He said before letting go of Vincent and continuing to walk down the hall to his locker. Vincent, too stunned to speak, spun around and watched him go. His heart was still speeding along, his cheeks were still a light shade of pink.

This was certainly new.

~~~

Catherine tried to make it work with boys, she really did. JFK wasn’t a bad lover (though she would argue he wasn’t necessarily great either) and for the brief time that they could be considered a couple he was genuinely sweet towards her. Jack would surprise her with things; tickets to her favourite band’s concert, flowers, candy, just about anything you could expect or want from a significant other. Caesar wasn’t a bad boyfriend either. He was more than willing to sit next to her and just relax in each other’s company, enjoying the comfortable silence that surrounded him. He didn’t mind, or even grimace, when Catherine got her period and asked him to do quick runs to the pharmacy for her. There was nothing wrong with either of the two men, no, the problem laid with her.

And the problem was that she just didn’t like men.

Girls were soft. Girls were beautiful. Girls were strong. Girls were smart...and the more Catherine thought about it the more she realized that she never truly liked men. She thought about her childhood fascination with the Little Mermaid movie, and how when Ariel got her legs and breached the water against the sunny backdrop, how her eight year old heart sped up and paid special attention to how the former mermaid’s chest heaved as she gasped for air and took her first breath. Yep. She was definitely a lesbian.

When Abe and Cleo started dating Catherine didn’t know what to think. It was clear to even the most obtuse outsider of their school social circles that he was only interested in Cleo for her body. Yes, she was beautiful but there was more to Cleo than what Abe believed it became physically painful to watch the two together. Abe didn’t deserve her. Cleo was smart, far smarter than anyone gave her credit for and the recent student body election was proof of that. She could be rough around the edges sometimes but deep down there was a sweet, generous person who was fiercely loyal to the people she loved. She had been willing to give up a promising career as a dancer for Abe after all (something that Catherine would never ask of her). Intense beauty was only one side of the queen bee but it seemed to be the only side that Abe was interested in, and that infuriated Catherine to the core.

“She can do so much better,” She said one day to JFK as he was grabbing a book from his locker. Across the hall, making out against the lockers, was the couple in question. “I don’t get what she sees in that tool.”

“Me neitha,” JFK agreed and shut his locker door, “But try tellin’ her that. She thinks Lincoln is the bees’ knees, but really he’s more like the cockroaches’ ankles.”

“What does that even mean?” Catherine asked, but quickly threw her hands up in defeat because half the time she couldn’t understand a God damn thing that JFK said. “Whatever it is I agree with you. She’s just so...perfect. And he’s just a...a...”

“A chowder head?” JFK suggested. “A Bozo? A seven foot tall abomination with a beard?”

“All of the above.” Catherine replied and angrily folded her arms in front of her chest. “Cleo deserves someone who understand her. Someone...smart, and creative, and who adores her, and who....and who...” Who wasn’t a boy.

JFK nodded his head as a sign for her to continue, “And who?”

Catherine fell silent. How could she explain to JFK of all people that the reason she didn’t want Lincoln dating Cleo was because she wanted to date Cleo?

~~~

Ponce wasn’t sure when it began but somewhere along the lines he’d fallen in love with his best friend. His completely straight, basically-his-brother, best friend.

A few weeks back, after JFK had been released from the hospital following his raisins overdose, he started to appear in Ponce’s dreams. Sometimes they were normal; him and Jackie-Boy winning the Super Bowl or on stage alongside Iron Maiden wailing away in guitars. Other times they were simpler; the pair sitting together on the hot of JFK’s old convertible and looking up at the stars or walking along barefoot on the beach with the sun setting behind them. And sometimes, between the teenage-typical fantasy of fame and fortune and the sappy harlequin romance covers, John would appear in Ponce’s R rated dreams. A beautiful brunette, with the biggest, sweetest Bambi eyes Ponce had ever seen, and an ass that was to die for would kneel down before the clone son of the explorer and unzip his pants. Ponce would groan, would roll his head back, and when he looked down again the woman was gone and Jack was in her place. Before he could say anything, Jack would smirk and tell him to shut up and take Ponce into his mouth and that would be the last rational thought the greaser could have before waking up to find that he had climaxed into his sheets in his sleep. At first Ponce chalked it up as a fluke; he’d spent the day helping JFK navigate campus in a wheelchair and the injured boy would have been on his mind when he went to bed that night. But then JFK’s leg healed and the dreams kept coming. So, by an extension of that, did Ponce.

It wasn’t just a sexual attraction though, and that worried Ponce even more than the wet dreams. He started to drift off; every day dream, every zoned out moment turned to some scene of him and his best friend doing cutesy couple stuff that normally would have made the greaser gag. He wanted to fuck his best friend, he wanted his best friend to fuck him, and then he wanted to cuddle up close to him, to hold his hand as they walked through the school corridors, to have dinners at each others’ houses.

“This is fucked up.” Ponce told himself one night, after he was certain that his father had gone to bed and wouldn’t hear him. “You’re fucked up.” Bros didn’t spend entire days of class time daydreaming about going on dates with their bros, then going home and fucking their brains out. Worse yet there was nobody that Ponce could talk to about this; Jack was out of the question entirely, his other friends ran the risk of blurting something out or teasing him about it, and as for his dad...well...it was difficult to trust a man who worked at his school with any information relating to his social life, no matter how awesome of a parent they were. With no other options, Ponce held his tongue and kept his new problem to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chaotic gays meet up to talk about their love lives. Tag yourself I’m Vincent.

Though he was athletically fit for a teenage boy, having accompanied JFK to the gym for the majority of all his work outs, Ponce was never much of a sports fan. He just didn’t see the appeal of it. A bunch of morons running around after a ball, or bumping into each other, or some other stupid thing. The only reason he even bothered going to the school games was to support his best friend, but now sitting squeezed between strangers in the bleachers, watching JFK run around in a tank top and too-short-shorts, Ponce was beginning to develop a brand new appreciation for sports. He wondered, briefly, if anyone around him could tell when his eyes lingered on his buddy’s legs of heard the occasional soft intake of breath whenever JFK went in for a shot and lifted up his arms. No one said anything so for the moment it appeared as if Ponce was in the clear.

Everyone in the school was there for the game. Joan, Abe, JFK and there rest of the team were scattered between the bench and the court while Cleo and her cheerleaders spelled out the school name with their pompons. Catherine was wandering around with her camera taking snaps for the paper (she had already gotten a couple of the team as they took the court and was now getting some crowd candids) and the rest of the student body was loudly cheering and hollering. It was killer on the ears but somehow Ponce was still able to hear a gentle, soft little sigh coming from behind him. The greaser turn around and saw the one person he never expected to at a school basketball game. “Van Gogh?”

The tiny artist clearly wasn’t expecting anyone to notice him and actually jumped a little. He quickly calmed back down and offered Ponce a little wave, “...Hey Ponce.”

“Hey man,” Ponce replied. “What are you doing here? I though sports weren’t your forte? Totally cool either way.”

Vincent stammered for a second before finally finding the words. “Oh. I uh...I just wanted to support my school, you know?” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it would be if he hadn’t panicked immediately before.

“Really?” Ponce asked, his skepticism clear. He cocked an eyebrow up and lowered his voice so the others gathered around them wouldn’t hear his next question. “You’re not going to blow up the gym like in Heathers are you?”

“No! I just...I just wanted to-“ Vincent looked past the greaser to the basketball court and fell on one of the players currently on defence. Caesar and Al Capone we’re currently fending off the players from GESH while Joan was taking her turn on the bench. After removing the ban on girls she had become the team’s pride and joy; anytime she was required to leave the court an emphasis was placed on the defensive end to run out the clock until she could rejoin the team. Better players, Caesar, Capone, JFK all hung back, while the worse players like Napoleon and Lincoln got their time on offence. Caesar and Capone has surrounded a GESH player and somehow Caesar was able to get the ball away from the jarhead and pass it down to Napoleon. He was grinning a cocky, almost feral grin. Vincent sighed again. Unfortunately for him, Ponce noticed this too and looked back at the game to find the source of Vincent’s sudden willingness to observe organized sports.

“Oh.” He said softly. “I get it.”

“Get what?” Vincent asked with a scowl. Ponce may have been a charismatic guy, but he was popular and he ran in the same crowd as Van Gogh’s unfortunate crush. That meant he could not be trusted.

“You like Caesar....or that Alt-Right looking bastard from GESH. But seeing as they’re all a bunch of knuckleheads, I’m willing to bet that it’s Caesar.” Ponce really fucking hoped it was Caesar. If not for the fact that the entire GESH student body made him feel uneasy, then for the fact that of Van Gogh ever tried to have sex with any GESH student he would, without doubt, be killed. “That’s actually kinda cute.”

“Shut up.” Van Gogh retorted and ducked his head. Any minute now Ponce would expose his feelings to the rest of the school and they’d all laugh at him for being a little loser who aimed too high. He felt his face get hot, and tears started to build in his eyes, but nothing happened. Sniffling, Vincent wiped his eyes on his sleeve and dared to look back up. Ponce wasn’t laughing at him, or talking to either people, he was just sitting there looking at Van Gogh as if any minute he was going to shatter like a plate of glass.

“When’d you start dating?” Ponce asked.

Against his wishes Vincent let out a small, deflated, undignified whimper. “We’re not.”

“Oh.” Ponce said and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry man.”

Vincent sighed yet again and straightened himself up. It wasn’t often that someone caught the great and mighty Ponce De Leon off-guard and this was clearly awkward for the both of them. The artist spoke again, making sure that this time his voice was strong and solid and free of any soft and humiliating sounds. “Don’t be. You didn’t know. Besides it’s not like I have much of a shot anyway.”

“Hey.” Ponce said suddenly. He stood up and moved back a row into the empty seat beside Van Gogh, taking the time to put a comforting hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder. What was with popular guys touching him lately? Ten years of schooling and only now was Vincent getting any form of physical affection from his peers. Strange. “You’re not alone, you know? I...there’s someone I really lik-that I really love but my chances of ever being with them are shit too.”

“Cleo?” Van Gogh asked. Every boy in school had a crush on Cleo at one point or another (the exception, of course, being the artist himself) and Ponce was one of the few guys in school who had yet to take his turn on the class bicycle yet. Van Gogh winced at the thought. It wasn’t fair to think of the girl so cruelly. If he had a hundred handsome suitors lining up around the block for a date with him, Vincent would have become a bit of a slut too.

“Nah,” Ponce replied and looked back towards the game in progress. JFK was taking his turn on the bench and trying to make Joan laugh by shoving a basketball up his shirt. It wasn’t working. “I’m an idiot who fell in love with my best friend.”

“JFK huh.” Ponce may have been the king of Clone High but everyone knew that JFK and him had been best friends since they were four and would remain such until one of them croaked. Though as to why or how anyone could have fallen in love with the Kennedy clone Vincent would never understand. He was...an interesting boy to say the least, but Van Gogh supposed that he was in no place to judge. Caesar had his strange moments too. Maybe it was a side effect of being cloned that everyone was a little bit weird. “It could happen. You guys are always together and he seems to have gotten really clingy after his overdose.”

“Yeah but the problem comes in telling him.” Ponce explained. It wasn’t a secret that JFK wasn’t exactly in control of his emotions. What he would do if Ponce, someone he thought he could trust, suddenly made advances towards him was enough to keep the Greaser at bay. He’d rather have the other boy as a friend than to loose him entirely, something he could sense Van Gogh agreed with. “Isn’t that what’s keeping you back from Julius?”

“You’re right.” Vincent responded and folded his arms in front of his chest, reclining back against the hard oak of the bleachers. “This sucks.”

“Yep.” Ponce agreed. “You know, it’s pretty nice being able to talk about this shit. I don’t have anyone I can ask for advice from about this.”

“What about your dad?” Vincent asked.

“My dad doesn’t even know that I like dudes. I can’t just drop two bombshells on him like that.”

“Fair enough.” The artist said. He paused for a second, and briefly considered the pros and cons of what he wanted to say next before deciding that he and Ponce were in this together now. If the greaser ever tried to go behind his back, he had enough stuff on him to get revenge nice and easily. “My foster parents always assumed I was gay.”

From behind them a familiar, strangely feminine yet deep voice piped up. “You hear the strangest things when you’re looking for a story.”

Both Vincent and Ponce spin around to face their eavesdropper; Vincent moving so quickly that he nearly tumbled backwards between the bleacher seats. Ponce grabbed onto his sleeve to pull him back into his seat and keep him from falling, while the smaller boy sputtered at the girl in question. “Ca-Catherine..?!”

Ponce wasn’t distressed by her sudden appearance at their side in the slightest and even went as far as to offer her a slight wave. “Hey Cat.”

“Hey yourselves.” Catherine said and dropped down into the seat behind the two boys, holding her camera in her lap. “What’s this about being gay?”

“Please lets just drop this...” Vincent mumbled weakly but that was not enough to stop Catherine. She was a reporter, after all. She gave the artist a quizzical look and opened her mouth to ask another question but Ponce came to Vincent’s rescue and cut her off,

“I was talking to Vincent about some stuff. Love life stuff.” The greaser explained.

“You’re gay?” Catherine asked as though the possibility of a guy who wore parachute pants, a leather jacket, designer boots, and who spent nearly an hour every morning styling his hair being gay had never occurred to her.

“I’m something.” Ponce said far more relaxed than any normal person would be in his situation. “Vin was just being a good bro and listening to me though so-“

“Hey, Hey, chill out. I get it. I’m gay too.” Catherine interrupted him. Van Gogh and Ponce exchanged a look between them. Not that they doubted Catherine’s claims but she had a party girl habit that didn’t seem to link up with her story. Unless they both weren’t paying close enough attention to the empress clone throughout their education. Given Vincent’s shyness the artist supposed it was possible.

“Really?” He asked. “But JFK and Caesar?”

“Are good friends of mine, and were decent boyfriends, but the fact of the matter is that I am not into dudes.” Catherine replied with a disarming, easy-going smile. This wasn’t something that any of them should have been stressing over. It was just three closeted gays sitting in the bleachers, surrounded by their screaming peers, while their individual crushes ran around on a basketball court. Nothing stressful at all. “Hey more for you guys. Am I right?”

“I suppose...” The artist clone replied and made the wise choice to leave out the fact that he wasn’t interested in all the boys. Just one boy that Catherine had the luxury of knowing intimately. If he was bolder, like Ponce, he may have asked her how good Caesar was in bed but the very thought caused him to blush furiously and force his gaze down at his feet to avoid any extra attention. “H-How do you even talk to guys about this?”

“How should I know?” Catherine asked, making a good point. “How do you talk to girls?”

“Fair enough...” Vincent replied without looking up. A few more seconds and the heat would vanish from his face. Ten, nine, eight....

Ponce spoke up directing the conversation back between him and Catherine. For the second time that night Vincent was grateful. When this was all over he was going to commission a painting for the other boy as thanks. Assuming he’d want one... “Any girl in particular catch your fancy Cat?”

“Just one but she’s taken.” Catherine said, adding a second layer under her breath. “Taken for granted...”

Vincent looked back up. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who she was referring to. “Cleo?”

Catherine nodded, “Cleo.”

Ponce let out a low whistle and leaned back as far as he could without falling between the bleachers, putting his arms behind his head like a pillow. “Man, no one in this school really likes Abe do they?” He asked without needing to. He already knew the answer.

“He’s a tool.” Catherine all but shouted. Luckily Joan had finally retaken the court and while the two boys enjoying her company could hear the empress’ outburst, the rest of the gym was hooting and hollering at their star, drowning her excess noise out. Catherine slammed her first down hard at her side, momentarily wincing at the pain she’d stupidly caused herself before the spark reignited and she continued, “All he cares about is fucking her and it’s disgusting. Cleo deserves better than that.”

“Amen sister.” Vincent said in response. After that shit Ghandi had pulled with the hotline, the artist couldn’t trust any of that little friend group farther than he could throw them. And he sucked at sports and throwing shit. Unless the school was rioting in which case it was as if the thunder god Thor was channeling his rage through the boy’s tiny body and look out! The only exception to Vincent’s distrust was Joan who had been quick to apologize to him about the whole incident and who was becoming visibly more and more frustrated with her friends’ antics herself. “If it makes you feel any better like a guy who barely knows I exist and who I have no shot with.”

“Don’t say that. You never know!” Catherine said with the enthusiasm only an outsider to the situation could have had. Ponce shifted in his seat, not wanting to weigh in on the matter, and she continued. “Who’s the guy?”

“Your ex.” Vincent stayed bluntly.

If Catherine had been drinking a soda or a water she could have done a perfect spit-take. Her face morphed into one of pure confusion, as if she had just been walking along down the street and Vincent burst in out of nowhere and smacked her in the face with a giant baseball bat. “JFK?”

“No. The other one.” Ponce answered for Vincent. The artist took note of how the greaser tensed up when Catherine said JFK but quickly dismissed the thought as nothing more than appropriate, fleeting jealousy. Not that he would ever accuse Ponce of such things out loud. “But while we’re on the subject, JFK’s the one that’s got me in a bind too.”

That made more sense. Catherine’s face returned to normal and she heaved what both Ponce and Vincent took to be a sigh of relief, though for what they did not know. “Wow.” She finally said, her voice gone soft as the weight of everything that had transpired between the three finally sank in. “Shitty luck all around.”

Vincent nodded in agreement then asked, “What do we do now?”

Catherine shrugged her shoulders and Ponce responded with a question of his own, “Well we can’t wallow in self pity forever can we?”

“Speak for yourself.” Vincent said.

Catherine suppressed the growing urges to roll her eyes at Van Gogh and tried to focus her attention back on the matter at hand. Three people, three decent, good looking people dealing with issues of love and lust and loneliness. It shouldn’t be that hard to solve. Then again if it was every high school drama show would only last thirteen episodes. “You know what...all we need is some more confidence. With more confidence we could just go up and ask them out. I mean what the worst that could happen?”

“Depression.” Vincent answered her.

“Loosing my best friend who I’ve known since infancy.” Ponce chimed in but his self-provided misery only lasted so long. The next thing Vincent knew Ponce was grinning like a mad man, clamping his hands down on both Catherine and the artist’s shoulders, and pulling them into a group huddle. “But you’re right Cat. We can’t live like this. We need to make some sort of a plan.”

“Or at the very least a support system.” Catherine added. She looked like she was about to say something but the idea escape her as she looked between the boys, “...Does anybody have a plan?”

“Fuck.” Vincent mumbled and wondered how he always got roped into these crazy shenanigans. “I mean...we could just try and hang out with them more? See where that goes...” It wasn’t much but it was start. A start that they absolutely did not need to form a mini, gay Avengers-like group to figure out. Regardless Catherine appeared to like his plan,

“Subliminal. I like that. Let’s do that.”

“That’s not quite what I meant.” Vincent said, trying to explain himself. “If I were you Catherine, I would just wait for Lincoln to fuck up. He does it all the time. Just wait for the BIG fuck up and be there for Cleo. Comfort her and then maybe she’ll start to have feelings for you.”

“That is so sweet.” Catherine said with a smile and before Van Gogh had time to react, she broke the huddle and pulled him into the tightest bear hug the teen had yet to experience. It didn’t help that because of his height and her strength his face was smooshed in her cleavage. Out of the corner of his eye Vincent could spot Ponce struggling not to laugh. Fucking dick. “Thank you, you wise little artist man!”

“Uh...no problem?” Vincent wheezed as he struggled to get air into his lungs. Taking the hint Catherine let him go and Vincent slid back into his original seat, wheezing and gasping for air all the way. If the empress took offence to this she didn’t show it.

“Well I can definitely help you guys. I know how your two idiots think and how to get in their heads.” Catherine stated. She spun around and pointed at Ponce. “You. JFK and you are already almost hanging off each other. Just hang out with the guy, maybe do some subtle flirting, and then a moment will present itself. A perfect moment and then you kiss him-“

Ponce shook his head and slid back down into his seat beside Vincent. The artist moved over to allow more room and Catherine sat down at the end of the row. “But what if I-?” The explorer’s clone son started to say but Catherine cut him off.

“You’ve been friends since you were toddlers. If he reacts badly just say it was some stupid prank, and we’ll get you set up on Grindr for a rebound.”

Ponce put his head in his hands and groaned, “Oh good lord...”

Vincent was tempted to laugh at Clone High’s resident ‘cool guy’ being taken down a peg when Catherine turned her attention back his way and pointed an accusing finger at him. “As for you the answer is simple. Just talk to him, hang out with him a bit more. I know he looks like some cool jock, but Caesar is very understanding and already considers you a friend. I know you’re shy but if you want a chance with him it’s way you gotta do.”

“Talk to him.” Vincent repeated allowing the words time to sink in. He then wrapped his arms around himself. “Oh no.”

“Love is a game of waiting, my friend.” Catherine said as if she hadn’t just taken away a considerable chunk of Ponce De Leon’s dignity and sanity and terrified Vincent Van Gogh to the core with her suggestions of basic human interactions “So we agree. We try it each other’s way and if something goes wrong...”

“We get everything we own and collectively transfer to a new school across the country, faking our own deaths so that the humiliation may never reach us.” Ponce finished without taking his head out of his hands. He couldn’t look Catherine in the face right now. Maybe ever. He needed some fucking Advil after this conversation or his head was going to blow up.

Vincent shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Why is it that I’m more comfortable with that plan than with your plan of actually spending time with a boy I like?”

“It’s not just you buddy.” Ponce replied and the buzzer rang out. The final score Clone High: 15 and GESH: 11. All players took the court, Clone High’s athletes and cheerleaders celebrating and cheering along with the crowd as the GESH players trodded off with their heads hung in defeat. Ponce, with his head still aching, finally looked up to observe the spectacle before them. “Wow we were talking a long time.”

The three watched as Cleo ran into Abe’s waiting embrace, tossing her pom poms aside and practically throwing herself into his arms. Abe was grinning, waiting to receive her, until Joan walked over to him and offered him a high-five. Abe accepted and Cleo crashed into him, knocking the pair to the gym floor, and causing the trio in the stands to collectively cringe. Immediately Cleo started to scowl and berate her boyfriend for letting her fall, while Abe just rolled his eyes. Across the court Caesar, JFK, Capone, Napoleon, and a couple of the other players were cheering, high-giving each other, and goofing around with the game ball. Caesar passed to JFK who caught it and turned to look at the stands. He made eye contact with Ponce, grinned and waved up at him. Caesar looked to see who JFK was starring at, spotted Catherine, Ponce, and Vincent gathered together in the stands and quickly did the same. Whether or not his attention was directed towards him, Vincent felt his heart begin to speed up inside his chest and a faint but noticeable blush spread across his cheeks, “This may be easier than I thought.”


	3. Chapter 3

As luck would have it wasn’t long until Abe was messing things up with Cleo on a grand scale. Anyone in school would tell you that the presidential clone was fucking things up left right and center every week, but the fuck up to end all fuck ups occurred as soon as the clones were back in class following the long weekend. Earlier in the year Mr. Sheepman has posted an opportunity for anyone interested to participate in the student exchange program with Clone High’s sister high school/cloning program in France Lycée De Clones. A couple of the more overachieving students applied such as Moses and Martin Luther King Jr before the application sheets were snagged up by horny students looking for good times aboard. Cleo loudly spoke of her desire to explore all the high end boutiques, Ghandi made some unsavoury comments about his preserved promiscuity of French women, and Joan, one of the few students with actual French heritage, quickly shut them both down. By the time applications were due to be handed in over half the school had applied, meaning that Mr. Sheepman had his work cut out for him in deciding who was going to get to go, a difficult process for any teacher. Or maybe it was easy because from the results alone it looked like he’d just drawn names out of a hat.

Five students would be going on the French exchange; Helen of Troy, Thomas Edison, Jesús Christo, Harriet Tubman, and Abe Lincoln.

The fact that Abe was going and Cleo was not wasn’t enough to trigger a fight between the couple. No, their problem began with a much bigger issue. Vincent, with a blank canvas under one arm, was making his way to the art room when he heard what sounded like shouting coming from the main hallway. He sped up and peaked around the corner just in time to witness Cleo slam her locker door in disgust.

“You fucking pig! How could you say that?”

“I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here Cleo! It’s natural to want to try other things in a foreign culture!”

“That means trying new food, new clothes, new music, not going around and fucking other girls!”

Vincent nearly choked on air and quickly ducked back the way he’d came to avoid being spotted by the bickering couple. By now a couple other students had begun to wander over to see what the fuss was about. Peers far braver than Vincent poked their heads around the corner and watched as Cleo and Abe went at it. Only when there was a larger enough crowd that Vincent wouldn’t feel singled out should either of the two look his way did the artist venture out to watch what happened.

“-It doesn’t mean anything! Think of it like a rumspringa. I am just getting a taste of local culture-“

“You mean the local pussy! This is so low Abe Lincoln!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to see what exists beyond Clone High! If you were in my shoes, I’d be supportive-“

“Bullshit! Look at how you handled the Ashley Angel thing!”

“I thought you weren’t wearing my jacket!”

“You should have trusted me not to cheat like I trusted you! Then again trust isn’t your strong suit is it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ashley Angel, JFK-“

“JFK will fuck anything that moves! Excuse me if I want to keep you away from that!”

“So that’s it? You can be a big hoe and slut it up across Europe but I can’t hang out with other guys in a strictly platonic or mentor-like way?”

“Exactly! Thanks for finally seeing it my way.”

Vincent and the amasses crowd collectively cringed at the second-hand embarrassment caused by the lanky presidential clone. If looks could kill Abe would have been reduced to rubble instead of standing there with an undeserved, perfectly at ease smile. Cleo’s eyes were lit with a fire that chill onlookers to the bone while Abe stood in place stupidly unaware of the oncoming storm. “If you go on that trip and so much as look at another girl,” said the queen bee, and chills rolled up Vincent’s spine. I’m all the time he had known Cleopatra, he had never seen her voice go so cold, so malicious, so dripping with evil that he felt like running out of school and straight into the nearest house of worship to pray for his soul. “We are done. Forever.”

Cleo didn’t give Abe the chance to respond. Calmly, with her head held high, she spun around and made her way down the hall towards her next class, the crowd of students who had come to witness the spectacle parting like the Red Sea as she moved without one moment of hesitation towards what was once a blocked path. The crowd began to disperse, some following Cleo, others returning to their previous activities, and Abe disappeared in the chaos. Van Gogh has never seen something so horrifying in his life though several nightmares he had as a small boy could be comparable. With his canvas in tow the artist clone sprinted down the main hall towards the school paper’s office. Catherine was going to love this!

~~~~

If there was such a thing as the wingman of the year award Catherine was certain she would be a winner. Maybe not a gold medal, but definitely silver. Definitely somewhere on the podium. And who said that being the editor or the student newspaper didn’t come with its perks?

After defeating GESH the week before Clone High was entered into the state basketball championship, a feat that had not been achieved since the Harlem Globetrotter clones graduated in 1992. The school was a buzz over the possibility of a state championship trophy being added to the school display case which meant that this was the perfect time to get the inside scoop from a member of the team. While Joan was the obvious first choice being their secret weapon, and Abe somehow still held onto his position as team captain, securing an interview with Joan would mean attempting to track her down during the height of her popularity and interviewing Abe meant actually having to talk to him, something that would inevitably end with Catherine beating the presidential clone to death with a stapler. All of that taken into consideration, and thinking of her desire to assist the boys with their quests for love, and it just made sense to bring in Caesar for the interview.

That and the boy interviewed very well.

“What would you say the secret to the team’s sudden success is?” Catherine asked, discretely texting Van Gogh beneath the desk to get into the newspaper office NOW. They would think of an excuse for him to be there later.

Caesar sat across from Catherine’s desk in an old plush chair that had been donated to the school back in the late 90s. How it ended up in Catherine’s office, she didn’t know, but she was not complaining. It was the only seat in school not made out of cheap plastic or hard-ass wood. The Roman thought about it for a second before answering, “Teamwork. The team this year is as close as Apollo and his beloved sister Artemis. This closeness allows us to trust each other in a way that has not been replicated since the heyday of the basketball team.”

“And what do you think of the sudden changes to the sexist players policy?” asked Catherine.

“Oh, it’s about time. The team would not be the same without Joan carving her way through our opponents! I never quite understood where administration was coming from with their policy, after all, women have been mighty athletes and warriors since Rome. Look at Minerva, Artemis, Atalanta, even as far back as Mesopotamia and the great goddess Ishtar!” Said Caesar. Catherine wondered if he actually knew all of the divinities he was listing off or if he just read a couple of mythology books a while back and was listing them off. Regardless comparing Joan of Arc to a God would make an interesting handle.

“So attending the state championship comes with some perks,” Catherine began hoping to steer the interview in a more beneficial direction. “What are you most excited for? The trip to the state capital? Playing against Ewing High? How about the athlete’s banquet? Is it true that all members of the team are allowed to invite one person to tag along as their date for the evening?”

“The trip to Trenton is exciting and we as a team are collectively looking forward to exploring the city. I know there’s plans to tour the Old Barracks Museum, and some of the guys are making plans to go to a rock climbing center. We are all, understandably, looking forward to spending the time together bonding as a team. It’ll be interesting to play against a regular high school, possibly challenging, but I feel that we will come out ahead. As for the dinner, well, it’s hard to say no to free food. The only unfortunate thing about the trip is that our captain will not be able to attend the game.”

Catherine groaned and rolled her eyes, slumping back into her chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah. The whole school is broken up over it. Whatever will we do with our weakest link gone?”

Caesar snorted. “Catherine, can you at least pretend to like Abe? I recognize that he is a tool but...” he paused, thinking over his words before speaking up again. “I take it back. I can’t think of anything to say justifying him. Still I believe that journalism involves some form of discretion.”

Discretion. If Catherine believed in discretion she wouldn’t be trying to hook up her interviewee with her friend. Or working on a piece for the gossip section detailing how Lincoln has webbed feet. “Oh please Jules. You know discretion is my middle name.”

“I thought it was the.”

“That’s funny. You know what else is funny? Putting your nudes in the gossip section.”

“I thought you deleted those after we broke up.”

“I keep a secret blackmail folder stored on a USB drive should anyone ever cross me. Don’t worry though. The only way I’d ever use them is if you do something really awful. Like sleep with my foster mom or something.”

“Marion is a charming women but I prefer my romantic partners to be closer to my own age.” Caesar replied quite cool, leaning back in his seat kicking his feet up on Catherine’s desk. “Speaking of which, I am looking for someone to go to the banquet with. I don’t suppose you’re interested in going as friends? It would give you quite the coverage of the event.”

As fun as a free trip sounded and the bonus it would bring to the paper, Catherine couldn’t afford to chill with Caesar right now. Not to mention she didn’t want to risk Vincent seeing them together and getting the wrong idea. “Can’t. I promised Voltaire I would cover his coffee house jam that weekend but you know who would love to go?”

“Who?” Asked Caesar and Catherine was about to respond when the door to her office slammed open and the artist in question burst into the room.

“Catherine!” Vincent cried out. His eyes fell on the boy sitting there being interviewed. “Oh...”

It was spooky how Vincent did that. “Speak of the devil.” Catherine mumbled.

“Hello Vincent.” Caesar greeted him, then noticed the urgency in the artist clone’S eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“...” Vincent stood there rooted in place staring at Caesar. The Roman clone and the Russian Empress exchanges weird looks, and Catherine gestures for him to go on. “Oh. Oh. Everything is fi-fine. I just thought that Catherine would like to know -for the gossip section- that Cleo and Abe just had a huge fight in the hallway.”

“A fight?!” Catherine repeater and jumped to her feet. “Like a big fight?! Like THE big fight?!”

“The biggest fight.” Said Vincent. “He wants to take a break so that he can sleep with girls in Europe.”

“The fiend!” Caesar exclaimed.

“Motherfucker!” Catherine shouted and slammed both her fists down her desk. She winced in pain and rubbed her hands. She really had to stop doing that! The reporter rushed around from behind her desk and over to the door, pausing only for a second to call back to Van Gogh and Caesar. “I gotta go! This is the big one boys! Just uh...just wait here and I’ll be right back!”

She ran out into the hall, heels clicking on the floor. Vincent and Caesar watched her leave in silence, listening to the clicks growing more and more distant and then suddenly louder and louder as Catherine reappeared in the doorway. She ran over to Vincent and pulled him into a hug, though thankfully less tight than the bear hug she had given him at the game. “Thanks Vinnie!” Catherine said and let the boy go, running back out into the hall in search of Cleo.

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. “O-okay.”

Caesar sighed and rubbed his temples. “Ah high school. Where the basketball team can break a nearly decade long loosing strike and be shoved to the back of the student newspaper in favour of a gossip piece about a couple breaking up.”

“Yeah, it’s fucked up.” Vincent agreed. “Congratulations on getting into the state championship, by the way. You guys deserve it.”

“Thank you Vincent.” Caesar replied. “You were at the game, weren’t you? I saw you sitting with Ponce. I didn’t know that you liked sports.”

“I don’t mind sports. I just don’t like being cramped into a small spot with a bunch of people shouting but I...I’m getting better with it.”

“You shouldn’t stress yourself out if it makes you uncomfortable.” Said Caesar. “Though speaking on behalf of the team, we appreciate your presence.”

“It actually wasn’t that bad last night.” Looking back Vincent may have even been able to say it was the most fun he’d had in a long time. Even though at the time he wanted nothing more that I crawl under a rock and die. It had been...nice to sit and talk with other kids about terrible having (or attempting to have) a love life was. Not to mention if he hadn’t talked to Catherine or Ponce last night, he would have no reason to come running into Catherine’s office and then he wouldn’t be speaking to Caesar right now. “You were really good in that game, by the way.”

“Thank you. Those GESH students really bring their all but it was a team effort.” Vincent wondered if Caesar was legally required to say that. Everyone knew that there were four members of the team carrying the rest along. “...Do you have plans this weekend?”

Vincent could practically feel the colour rushing to his face as his mind began to wander and wonder what Caesar’s weekend plans could be. This time though he held his ground and didn’t suck away in fear of his crush being discovered. If Caesar asked, he’d blame the poor insulation of Catherine’s office and the heat. “N-no. No I don’t...don’t have plans. What did you have in mind?”

“Would you like to come with me on the Trenton trip? We’re allowed to invite one friend to attend the banquet with us and it’d be nice to have someone I could actually talk to there with me.” Knowing the rest of the basketball team, team building and bonding would be shoved aside in favour of hitting in Trenton school girls. Of course Caesar couldn’t say that to Catherine. The last thing the team needed was any signs of decay before the big game.

Vincent felt like his heart was seconds away from exploding. His chest felt so weird, so heavy, he briefly considered the possibility he was actually having a heart attack or going into cardiac arrest. Caesar wanted him to tag along on a trip, out of town, to a fancy dinner. Would they have to share a room? Would they get to share a room? If they were sharing a room then that meant there was a chance of bumping into the other boy when he was changing or going to get a shower and that meant that Vincent may be able to see...- Caesar was waiting for an answer and the longer Van Gogh made him the weirder it got. “...ok.”

~~~~

Word travelled fast at Clone High. By lunch everyone was talking about how Abe and Cleo has been spotted fighting in the halls. Ponce hadn’t been there to witness the fight firsthand but he’d heard about it through the grapevine and knew that Catherine would be taking full advantage of the situation. He chose to ignore the whole thing entirely. If Catherine needed his help she’d come looking for it. Besides he had more important things to worry about right now. There was a history test next Thursday he needed to study for, a chemistry assignment due the week later, and he hadn’t started working on either of them yet. The greaser was headed to the library to try and get some studying in but first he needed to snag his books from his locker. As he was putting in the combination to his lock Ponce could hear the familiar sound of his best friend bounding towards him like a golden retriever high off caffeine pills. “Ponce! Ponce! Ponce! Ponce!”

“Hey Jackie-Boy,” Ponce said without turning around from his locker. “You’re excited. What’s going on?”

“This is going to be the best weekend ever is what’s going!” JFK exclaimed and grabbed onto his buddy’s shoulders, spinning him around so they were face-to-face. The presidential clone was grinning wildly from ear to ear; that grin that never meant anything good. The last time JFK had been grinning like that he and Ponce ended up spending the night in jail and having to get bailed out by their folks in the morning. Needless to say Wally, Carl, and Glen were pissed. “First we have the trip to Trenton; basketball game, touring the town, eating fancy grub, but that’s not been the best part! Guess what I just found out!”

“I don’t know? Are you dad’s going out of town and leaving you home to party again?”

“Even better,” JFK exclaimed. “There’s a meteor shower the day we get back! It’s my two favourite things: sports and space!”

“That’s cool,” Ponce replied. “So you’re going to get back, grab some dinner, and find a place to watch the show?”

“Yep! And I know the perfect place too! I’m going to grab my old convertible and take it up to the Teen Sex Cove!”

“Holy fuck...” Ponce wondered if he was dreaming or dying or something. Surely this couldn’t be real. There was no way in hell he just heard JFK say Teen Sex Cove! “Are you bringing a girl up or...?”

“Nah! This isn’t a sex trip, it’s a space trip! I can’t afford to be distracted!” Easier said than done. JFK had the attention span of a goldfish... “Anyways dude, I wanted to know if you wanted to tag along?”

“...you want me to go to the Teen Sex Cove with you to check out a meteor shower?” He was dead. Ponce was definitely dead and this was some fever dream he was having as his soul was ripped from his body. On the off chance he wasn’t and this was real Ponce answered, “I’ll be there.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent powertrips, Catherine guilt-trips herself, and Ponce sees stars.

Getting his foster parents’ permission to go on an overnight trip to the state capital was a lot easier than Vincent thought it was going to be. Then again maybe they were just happy to get him out of the house and socializing. Whatever the reason Friday rolled around and after class Vincent found himself on the team bus with every player who could make the trip and their invited parties. A couple key social players were missing; Abe had taken the trip off to prepare for his trip which would be departing next Monday, Cleo was still in shock after their break up, Ghengis King had a broken arm, so the list of attendants was far shorter than it’d normally be. Looking around Vincent just wished that there was someone else he could talk to. Ernest Hemingway was covering the trip for the paper as Catherine had stayed home to try and ‘comfort’ Cleo and Ponce always worked Friday nights after school. This meant the only person Van Gogh felt comfortable enough to talk to was the guy he was hoping to hook up with sometime before the semester ended. On the other hand, that push to communicate may be just what the artist needed to make a move...

Luckily for the artist, Caesar was an expert at conversing and breaking the semi-awkward silence that seemed to plague the smaller of the two boys. “Have you ever been this far from Exclamation, Vincent?” He asked.

“For my birthday my foster parents took me to New York City to your the art galleries once.” Vincent replied thinking back to the summer before eighth grade. “I love New York.”

“I agree. It’s the heart of East coast. After graduating I would like to attend college there.”

“I’m trying to get into this arts school there. Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

“I certainly hope so.” Said Caesar. “I would miss having your profound wit and creative talents in my life.”

“You think I’m...talented?” Vincent asked. Certainly he knew that he had to have some talent, otherwise cloning him would serve no purpose to whatever long term scheme the government was planning. It wasn’t like his fellow students could appreciate his work, however. Looking ahead on the bus Vincent found some relief in the fact. It was hard to take the art preferences of a student body seriously when their best and brightest were shoving various sports equipment balls down their shirts and hitting each other with badminton rackets. Wait badminton rackets? They were going to a basketball game. Who packed badminton rackets?

“Of course I do. No other painter nor sculptor in Clone High could hold a candle to your work.”

“Thank you,” said Vincent. “You know you were the only person to get that painting I put up in the hall?”

“A pity.” Replied Caesar shaking his head and Vincent found it impossible not to stare at the way the other boy’s jet black hair moved with him. The bus ride to Trenton was long and the AC gave up two years ago on the class trip to the Grand Canyon. Everybody was starting to sweat, both from the heat and the close proximity to each other. The hair gel Caesar used to keep his hair slicked back was starting to give under the pressure, loosening strands of thick black hair. Suddenly Vincent had the indescribable urge to paint a vast sea of contrasting ocean and night, but wouldn’t that be a bit on the nose? “The others don’t know what they’re missing out on. I suppose it’s message will be our little secret then?”

“Our secret.” Vincent repeated.

“Are you alright Vincent?” The Roman Clone asked. “Your face is awfully red. Is it too hot back here?”

“Very.” The smaller boy blurted without thinking over his words first. The colour on his face grew as he realized what he had just said and quickly moved to try and cover his blush with his hands. “No...no...I’ll be fine.”

Caesar cocked an eyebrow in response, clearly not buying into a word Vincent said in excuse, but let the subject drop and for that Vincent was grateful. The Roman continued, “You know Vincent, I am rather fond of your company. Not many of the other students can converse with me like you do. Not without resorting to-“

“Hey look!” Al Capone shouted from the front of the bus. He had shoved two of the smaller basketballs down his shirt and was holding them in place over his pectorals. “It looks like I has boobs!”

“-juvenile tactics.”

“I know exactly how you feel.” Vincent said. They watched as the bus, save the two of them, erupted with laughter at the other boys’ attempts to mimic Capone’s boob-trick. Even Joan attempted to jump in on this genital humour by grabbing a nearby badminton racket discarded from earlier, holding it over his crotch, and making jokes about having an erection. This was a hit with the team; JFK, Capone, and two of the softmore players practically fell to the floor of the bus in fits of laughter. “You ever feel like...the world doesn’t make sense? Like you’re in a tv show but it’s comedy, and the writers transplanted you there from some dark drama?”

“I never thought of it like that before but you are right.” Caesar replied and gave Vincent a gentle shoulder nudge. “At least we have each other though.”

“R-right...” Vincent suddenly became very aware of the fact that because they were in the back of the bus everyone else’s backs were turned to them. If he were to say, make a move, no one would notice what he had previously been led to believe would be a soul crushing rejection. The artist wasn’t so sure anymore...

“Vincent?” Caesar asked, pulling the other boy back down from his fantasies of moderate romantic success. “May I be so bold as to ask you for something?”

They were already getting closer than Vincent had allowed himself to become with anyone else...ever. This year seemed to be the year that the artist clone stepped outside his protective bubble of shyness and anxiety and actually participated in teenage social constructs. What harm then, could one little question do? “Ask away.”

“Would you be upset if I were to kiss you now?”

Apparently a lot because something had to be terribly wrong with his hearing. It almost sounded like the other boy was asking permission to- Was this another dream? Had Vincent somehow drifted off during the bus ride despite the heat, and his fantasies followed him? No...this was real. Caesar was looking at him in a way that Vincent had never seen him look at anyone else before. The Roman Clone was breed for battle, for glory, to spit in the faces of his enemies, to lead and conquer cities, and as such he had a strong, unbreakable demeanour that often resulted in him being mistaken for stern or strict now that those emperor’s features had been transcribed onto a teenage boy. Because of that Caesar never appeared to be weak like the rest of his peers; his vulnerabilities never surfaced until now. Vincent could see it in his eyes, in those beautiful ivy green orbs, the uncertainty that came with taking a chance one was never sure would work out. In that moment Vincent had the power to destroy him and he hadn’t even said anything yet. He thought back to that night at the gym when he thought so lowly of Cleo then changed his mind, deciding that the benefits that came with being promiscuous could seduce anyone. If this was what she felt every time a guy or a girl asked her out, then Vincent definitely understood. Those numerous suitors were offering her up something, a part of themselves, and she, the unmoving goddess, held the power to turn them to dust in her very hands. She was death, destroyer of lives, and still others would gawk and laugh behind her back and call her ‘easy’.

The second he had a free moment Vincent made a mental note to begin a preliminary sketch. That painting was going to make his other work look like it was commissioned from an art class for toddlers!

Caesar was still waiting for an answer. Unable to find the words to convey the swirling thoughts in his brain, Vincent just shook his head slowly.

It was a gentle kiss. Not that Vincent would know. This was his first time being kissed by someone after all. He wondered, briefly, if the reason it was so soft and so gentle was because Caesar thought he may hurt the much smaller boy. The Roman Clone relaxed back beside him and Vincent sighed to himself. Hadn’t that been something? That was definitely worth the 16 years of social starvation it took to get there.

“Are you alright?” Caesar asked noticing how Vincent hadn’t said anything since he first requested permission to kiss him.

“...I’m okay....” Vincent replied and it felt weird to hear his own voice. Like listening to a recording of himself, it sounded like someone entirely new was speaking. “I never kissed anyone before...”

“What did you think?”

“Could we do it again?”

~~~

Catherine had never seen Cleopatra cry before. Not real cry, anyway. Cleo had a dramatic soul and knew how to choke up the tears when she wanted to. That little talent earned her the lead in every school play from kindergarten to current day. As a matter of fact, next month she’d be starring opposite Rock Hudson in the school production of Newsies (Catherine already had her seat secured months in advance). But to see the queen bee, the most glamorous girl in Exclamation, sitting in the gym crying...it was an entirely different situation entirely.

Catherine had spent the last few hours looking for Cleo, ever since Vincent told her about the fight. She could disappear quickly when she wanted to, and maybe that was her secret to hiding her emotions from everyone. Cleo sat at the bottom of the bleachers, her head in her hands, hunched over, her elegant body wracked with sobs as soggy massacre dropped through her fingers and down her arms. Catherine’s stomach ached at the sight. Her was Cleo, her love, in pain and her was Catherine trying to take advantage of that vulnerability. Was she a bad person for hoping that this very thing would happen? It was too late to do anything about that now. All she could do was try and do better.

Catherine approached the crying girl quietly, like one would approach a wild deer or rabbit; cautiously, knowing that at any sense of danger they would flee. The empress clone took a seat beside Cleo and looked down at her shoes. She knew how important it was to the other girl to maintain her image of unfaltering beauty. Couldn’t risk her having another meltdown. “Hey Cleo...I’m really sorry. You didn’t deserve what Abe did to you.”

“I thought I met a nice guy for once,” said Cleo without much prompting. She didn’t look up from her hands. She couldn’t face anyone right now. Even someone wishing her well. “Someone who liked me for more than just sex...”

“There there.” Catherine said and gently patted the other girl’s shoulder. She wasn’t quite sure how Cleo would react to physical contact right now but it seemed like the right thing to do, and she didn’t shudder or try to move away when Catherine put her hand on her. “There’s plenty of...plenty of guys out there.”

“Guys who just see me as a conquest! It’s been this way as long as I can remember...I love being pretty. I love sex. I love make up, and make overs, and pretty things, but I just...I just...”

“Want more?” Catherine piped up. She had seen this before. It was hard being the best of the best. Being on top, being beautiful, being perfect, it all carried unnecessary amounts of stress that sent beautiful but innocent kids spiralling out of control. That and it reminded her painfully of Maureen from Rent. “It’s okay to like pretty things. And it’s okay to want more.”

“All I want is someone who I can do other things with,” Cleo exclaimed and let her head back to wail. Catherine could see her face now; runny massacre formed two thick lines down her face from her eyes, her lipstick was smeared accidentally against her palms, her blush and foundation long since washed away by tears. In the most painful of ways she was beautiful. “I want someone who is secure in themself enough to hang out with me when I’m doing my beauty regiment, or when I want to watch romcoms or musicals, or who will dance with me in my bedroom to Destiny’s Child! I want someone...I want someone who wants the real Cleo. Not the queen Cleo.”

“You are a queen though,” Catherine replied keeping her hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “The real Cleo, the one who likes musicals and dancing and make up is just as much a queen as the Cleo who likes to have sex and party. Don’t let anyone treat you like a child for liking that stuff. Don’t let some guy determine who you are. Just be you. Just be the dancing queen.”

And just like that, if even for a minute, the tears stopped and between shakey attempts to stabilize her breathing after wheezing for so long, Cleo cracked a small, unsteady smile. “Did you just seriously quote ABBA at me?”

“Mama Mia is my favourite musical ever.” Said Catherine.

“What did you think of the Mean Girls adaption?” Cleo asked, wiping her eyes on her arm. Somehow she was able to clear all her ruined make up away like she was Mulan. Catherine had always thought that was just a Disney fantasy and incapable of being performed by a non-cartoon character until now... “Personally I just watched it for Ben Cook.”

“Someone gets hurt is a ballad. I’d love to sing that, in an old evening gown and feather boa, splayed over a grand piano.”

“I think Burn would be my dramatic-piano song but that’s a good choice too.” Cleo’s smile became steady and Catherine could feel the butterflies in her stomach returning. Fuck any man who would bring such a beautiful creature to tears; who could gaze upon such a beautiful face, such a smile, and be willing to destroy it for something as cheap as the possibility of easy sex. Cleo shifted awkwardly in her seat, trying to make eye-contact with Catherine while also trying to avoid meeting her eyes. The Empress clone had seen her do this a couple of times before, namely around cute boys. Oh my god...she was trying to flirt with her! It took willpower Catherine no longer knew she had not to squeal and giggle like some ditsy blonde in a cheesy cartoon. “Do...Do you want to go watch some broadway shows in my room? I have Little Shop of Horrors, Into The Woods, and Hairspray all on bluRay.”

“I would love to.” Said Catherine, somehow managing to bottle up her squeal and screams for joy. For now.

“Thanks Cath,” Cleo said. “You know, you’re such a sweetheart.” And with that she leaned over and pressed her lips against Catherine’s.

~~~

JFK swung by Ponce’s place a little after eight on Sunday. It had taken nearly a year for mechanics to buff out all the dents and fix his convertible so it was street legal again but boy did that car like immaculate. Ponce called out to his dad that he’d be back a bit later and not to wait up and stepped outside and over to the vehicle. JFK must have been worried about missing some of the action. His duffel bag from the trip was still in the backseat. “How was Trenton?” Ponce asked climbing into the passenger’s seat.

“Interestin’.” JFK replied and peeled out of the driveway, not bothering to wait until Ponce had gotten buckled. Luckily the other boy was used to this kind of reckless driving from his best friend by now and did it while they drove. He had to be the only student at Clone High willing to get in a car with JFK behind the wheel by now. “We ended up going rock climbin’ and just wanderin’ around a bit. Suppa was decent. I er uh wish you coulda tagged along though. I was startin’ to get lonely.”

“With the team there?” Ponce asked, finding it hard to believe that JFK could even have the facilities to feel lonely. The presidential clone was basically a celebrity in Exclamation. “What about Caesar?”

“Caesar brought along that little shrimp Van Gogh. Not that I er uh have problem with the squirt or anythin’. Nah they were normal at first and then on the way back they got all quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“Yeah. Sat off together in the back, ignored the rest of us, just talked to each otha.”

Holy shit. Get it Vincent. That boy worked fast! Ponce was fucking impressed and he was certain Catherine was going to be too when she heard how busy their little buddy had been. Without giving an indication of his excitement for Vincent, Ponce replied, “I’m sure it wasn’t anything important buddy.”

“Nah. You’re probably right.” The road to Teen Sex Cove wasn’t paved. The spot was halfway out of town where no grown ups or cops on patrol would think to venture out to. Though the privacy was appreciated, the bumpy dirt road was not and for a second Ponce could see JFK flipping his damn car again. JFK wasn’t so concerned and continued to speed along. “I was startin’ to worry we’d miss it. Showers like this only happen every so often, let alone on a clear night like this. I thought it’d be anotha eclipse thing.”

“Didn’t you end up going with your dads to watch the eclipse in Nashville?” Ponce asked.

“Yeah but it was just me for most of it. Dads had to take care of some business with some of the other executives.” JFK replied. There were some notable perks to having two music producers for foster parents: money, expensive trips across the United States and abroad, a kickass recording studio in your own house that everyone just kinda shrugged off, being able to record your own albums year after year. Then again there some downsides too. Because of their work Wally and Carl has to travel and leave JFK home a lot. Not that their son seemed to mind. Every time they were gone for the weekend he turned the house into party central.

They reached Teen Sex Cove in record time and JFK stopped in one of the spots that had been made by numerous horny teenagers verging up in their cars for a bit of action. He unbuckled (Ponce did the same) and relaxed back in his seat, looking up at the night sky. “Any minute now it should be startin’ up. This has to be the best place in town for stargazin’!”

That was true but exploring the cosmos wasn’t what most people had in mind when they heard the phrase ‘Let’s go to Teen Sex Cove’. Still Ponce had to agree. “It’s certainly beautiful up here.”

“See that clusta of stars there? That’s Orion. In Greek mythology he was the only person that er uh Artemis ever loved and when he died she put him in the skies so that, in a way, they could always be together.” JFK explained pointing up at a group of stars that didn’t resemble anything but a bunch of shiny dots to Ponce. The greaser smiled and nodded and Jack continued, pointing at a group of stars in a line. “And that’s Taurus the bull over there! Hey, what’s your sign? Let’s see if we can find it!”

“Aries.” Said Ponce. “You’re a Gemini right?”

“Yep. I think Catherine’s a Taurus though. And I know that Cleo’s a Scorpio...I wonder if that’s why our relationship didn’t work out?”

“That...could be a reason but I wouldn’t put too much thought into astrological comparability Jack.”

They fell into a comfortable silence just staring up at the night sky. Ponce looked back at where Jack has said Orion was and tried to make out the image of a person but to no avail. JFK meanwhile scoured the night sky for any sign of the Aries constellation but quickly gave up. He looked over at his best friend and Ponce’s stomach twisted into knots. He had known JFK since they were kids. He knew what it meant when JFK looked at him like this, with a rare softness in his eyes and a small, risky smile on his lips. JFK had very nice, full lips...No! He couldn’t think about that right now!

“I know I’m not er uh...good at the whole feelings thing but I’m tryin.” JFK started to say, cautiously as if these very words could get him arrested. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. You can tell me anything.” Said Ponce.

“I know everybody wants me to go into politics and everythin’ but I don’t wanna.” The presidential clone’s face scrunched up with disgust at the thought of having to run for another election. His campaign for student body president had been very off putting for him and Ponce understood his hesitation to get involved with politics further. “I wanna go to space.”

“Space?” Ponce repeated.

“I wanna walk on the moon, and explore new planets, and conqua Mars like my clone father woulda done!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that Jackie-Boy.” Ponce said, not bothering to point out why conquering Mars may not have been the best term for space colonizing. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be an amazing astronaut.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Said JFK. “What do you wanna do with your life Poncey?”

“I want to spend my life surrounded by my friends and family.” Replied Ponce. He knew this answer well. Apparently it had gotten him killed in some drug-trip dream universe but after that night in the hospital JFK preferred not to talk about it that much. Ponce’s dreams didn’t change since then. “I think I could handle any job so long as I had the right people in my life.”

“Really?” JFK asked. “Even as, like, a teacher?”

“Oh shit. That’s tough.” Ponce said with a frown. “Still I think I could make it work. If I had the right person to come home to.”

JFK laughed thought not mockingly and patted his buddy as best as he could in a car on the back. “Heh you wan’ that white picket fence life? Beautiful wife, two point five kids, apple pies cooling on windowsills?”

Not quite...if only he knew...”Everything sounds good there ‘cept the wife part.”

“You wanna live as a bachelor? Like Hugh Hefner? That’s cool Poncey!”

Was this it? Was this the universe’s way of telling Ponce to go for it? They were out here, alone, in a beautiful part of town talking about their futures...he was going for it! “Not quite Jackie. See I-“

“Look! It’s starting!” JFK interrupted him and pointed back up at the sky. A streak of bright, yellow light shot across the sky and disappeared over the horizon. And then another. And then another. Until the sky was full of shooting lights. JFK grinned; his eyes were wide with a delight and wonder that he lacked at school or anywhere else for that matter. He was his happiest looking up at the night sky. Ponce could feel his heart racing, his palms starting to sweat. He had never seen his best friend like this before. So genuinely happy, so genuinely at peace with the world. JFK looked over at him, his face awash with pure joy, and asked, “Have you ever seen somethin’ so beautiful in your whole life?”

“Yes.” Said Ponce and without thinking leaned over, cupped JFK’s face in his hands, and pulled him into a kiss.

JFK didn’t struggle to pull away. But then again JFK didn’t kiss him back. Ponce had a feeling this was going to be the first and the last time he ever got the chance to kiss the other boy so he took his time in pulling away. The other boy was blank, as if he was still trying to process that that had just happened. His confusion quickly gave way to anger. JFK sneered at the other boy, jabbed an accusing finger into his chest and snarled, “How dare you?!”

“Oh shit.” Ponce had never seen JFK this angry before. Not since they cancelled Last Man On Earth. “Jack, Jack I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“I’d expect this kinda shit from anyone else Ponce but not you! I thought you were my friend! How could you do this to me?!”

“Oh my god Jack! I’m so sorry! I’m so fucking sorry man please don’t-“

“Why would you even want to....does it give you some kind of a sick thrill?! To know you hold a guy’s heart in your hand and that you can just go and crush it like a peanut?! That’s so fucked up Ponce! That’s so fucked it!”

“Please Jack I-“ Ponce froze. What had Jack just said to him? He held a guy’s heart in his hand...”Wha-what are you talking about?”

“You kissed me because you know that I like you and you did it to mess with my head!” JFK explained as if it were the most obvious thing on the face of the earth. “To make fun of me for sometimes liking dudes!”

Ponce couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh. Not a quick, just cut a witty remark laugh, but a full belly, half doubled over laugh. JFK kept scowling at him, “You sick bastard! This is funny to you?! Ponce De Leon I hate-“

“I didn’t kiss you to make fun of you.” Ponce managed spit out between laughs and gasps for air.

“You didn’t?” JFK asked and all of that anger, all that outrage, was washed away. He cocked an eyebrow in confusion as he looked down at the other boy still doubled over and laughing. “Then why did you?”

“Because I like you, idiot.” Ponce explained. He took a deep breath, finally able to choke back his laughter and sat back up. “Jesus Jack you’ve known me pretty much all our lives. Do you really think I’d do something so cruel for a punchline?”

“No...” Said JFK. “But then why...?”

“I already told you. I like you.” Said Ponce, and, seeing as his cards were already on the table. “Hell, I guess you could say I may even...love you.”

“...why?” JFK asked.

“I don’t really know. It just sorta happened. One day I woke up and I loved you.”

Ponce didn’t know how to explain it. The media always portrayed love as quick, as something that happened at first sight, but it wasn’t the case for them. He grew to love Jack. So it made sense to just start by explaining all the things that made him fall helplessly in love with his best friend. “If I had to pick a reason though...you’re so incredibly sweet. Even if you sometimes say or do the wrong thing, it’s never out of malice and you always mean well. Not to mention that you’re fun to be around, you make me relax, and I feel like I can be myself around you. Like it’s okay for me to get weird. I don’t have to be Ponce De Leon, the man, the myth, the legend of cool. I can just be me. You’re my best friend Jack.” Seeing as JFK didn’t look like he wanted to slug him, Ponce decided to continue. “And I mean you’re not a bad looking dude. You’re well built, you have a nice smile, best ass in school, and you have Bambi eyes-“

“Bambi eyes?” JFK interrupted quizzically. “What the hell are Bambi eyes?”

“You know, like the deer?” Ponce asked knowing that JFK had to have seen the movie at some point in his life. “Big, brown, doe eyes.”

“I do not have doe eyes.” Said JFK but Ponce watched as one of the other boy’s hands drifted subconsciously towards his face. They both knew that every word Ponce was saying was true. JFK hesitated for a second before adding, “You know it’s some kind of defect? The real JFK had greenish eyes and his hair wasn’t as dark as mine. Don’t know why everything got darker with me. Maybe it was like when you go to print something off and need more toner.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous and I love you.” Said Ponce and he suddenly became very aware of the fact that JFK’s hand had been strategically placed over his cheek. He tilted his head a little to try and get a peak at JFK’s other side and saw slight flush of pink across his cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Well you’re sitting there listing off all this nice stuff! I can’t help it!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before.”

“Fuck off Ponce.” The presidential clone mumbled but both could tell he didn’t mean it. “It was the dream that did it for me.”

“The dream?” Ponce asked. “The one you had in the hospital?”

“Yeah, I...it made me realize how miserable I’d be if something ever happened to you. And at first I was like ‘eh, no big deal. Just a bro missing a bro’ but then the more I thought about the more everything hurt. Like I couldn’t picture my life without you. I couldn’t see graduating, or going to college, or anything without you there too and that got me thinking that maybe it wasn’t just because I missed my bro and-“

Ponce leaned over again and pressed his lips against the other boy’s. To his relief, this time JFK kissed him back. They parted after a couple seconds and JFK smiled a little, “Was that to get me to shut up?”

“No, I just thought you may have needed it.” Ponce explained.

“Thanks Poncey.”

“Anytime Bambi.”

“I do not have Bambi eyes you Fonzerelli-wannabe!”

Ponce just laughed and leaned back in his seat, turning his attention back to the night sky and the meteor shower at hand. “You’re cute when you’re all worked up.”

“....” JFK froze. He tried in vain for a few minutes to think of some kind of witty comeback to that remark and failed. He looked back up at the sky and made himself comfortable in his seat. “You motherfucker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I may have disassociated when writing Vincent’s part at 1am last night. It got weird quick. 
> 
> Also I got a request to add another couple to this fic and I’m on-board with it. Thought not having a major role, George Washington Carver and Jésus along with a surprise couple will be appearing in the next chapter. When that chapter comes out I have no idea because it’s exam time and I’m tired. 
> 
> 4 down, 2 more to go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like to call this little chapter ‘Abe Lincoln versus the gays’. 
> 
> Slight NSFW ahead (one scene).

There was a time when Gandhi would have believed that life would be full without his best friend by his side to share the day with. Then Abe left for France and the world kept on spinning. As the months passed, Gandhi spent his days hanging out with Marie Curie, Joan of Arc, and even the more popular kids began to come around to him. In a matter of time Gandhi was getting regular invites to all of JFK’s ragers, he was being included on popular kid outings to the movies or to the beach, and even Cleo have begun to remember his name correctly. Marie and him had date night every Thursday after school and whenever they were free Marie would help tutor him in his more difficult subjects. Gandhi’s grades started to improve, he had a thriving live life, and he was finally accepted by his peers and all of this happened while Abe Lincoln was away. As much as he loved his friend, Gandhi began to forget about Abe. For all he knew, Abe was off in Europe making a new life. The months passed and Abe was all but a spec in Gandhi’s memory. Until he stepped into Clone High one morning, made his way to his locker, and found Abe standing there waiting for him, “Gandhi!”

“Abe!” Gandhi cried out in surprise. Not one to hold grudges, the smaller boy surged forward and give his old friend a hug. “I missed you man!”

“I missed you too!” Abe said but his eyes were directed elsewhere. Someone had entered the school after Gandhi and was making her way to her own locker. Abe let his friend go and crept up behind her, “But you know who I missed more...?”

Knowing what was about to happen Gandhi reached for his bestfriend’s arm but missed and called out after him, “Abe wait-!”

The smaller teen’s words fell on deaf ears. Abe stood behind Cleo and without warning threw his arms around her waist, “Gotcha!”

“Ahhhhh!” Cleo screamed loud enough to crack the glass in her locker mirror. She spun around, a heavy binder in hand, and smacked Abe across the face with it. “Pervert!”

“Owww!” Abe cried out and stumbled backwards. “Cleo it’s me!”

“Oh.” Cleo stopped for a minute, taking the time to see who it was, then smacked Abe over the head with her binder again. “Pervert!”

“Cleo stop!” Abe pleaded and held his arm up to protect him from another blow. “What’s gotten into you?”

His words managed to make the queen bee stop. She took a step back away from Abe and held her binder close to her chest. “You can’t just grab girls in the hallway, Abe. It’s creepy.”

“But you’re my girlfriend.” Abe said, pushing himself up off the floor. “That makes it cute and romantic.” 

Cleo groaned loudly, “I stopped being your girlfriend when you decided you’d rather fuck other girls than wait for me.”

“But I didn’t. Cleo, I never touched another girl. I was loyal to you.” Not completely true. There had been other girls. Abe has tried to pick them up but no one ever went for it. He must have struck out with nearly a hundred girls but Cleo didn’t need to know that. All she needed to know was that he didn’t get his dick wet. “So we’re still together. Now come here, give daddy some sugar-“

“Ewww!” Cleo hissed in disgust and used her binder as a blockade to keep Abe from trying to embrace her again. “No! We are not together! We broke up and while you were gone I met someone who likes me for me, not just for my rocking body!”

The mention of another love sent the presidential clone into a frenzy. His jealous side surfaced and Abe grit his teeth together, “Who is he?!” He demanded. “I’ll gut this homewrecker!” 

That was enough for Cleo. She had to get to class anyway. “Goodbye Abe.” She said and made her way down the hall to her AP calculus class. Abe watched her leave, fists clenched at his side and fuming, and Gandhi cautiously approached his best friend. The smaller boy placed a comforting hand on Abe’s shoulder bad gave it a little squeeze, 

“Tried to tell you dude. While you were gone she hooked up with-“

“Oh, I know who she hooked up with.” Abe said cutting Gandhi off. “That sneaky bastard, always moving in at the first sign of weakness. Well, I’ll settle his score!”

And on that note Abe stormed off in the direction of class, stomping down the hall all night the way. Gandhi had a bad feeling about it so he shouted after him, “Where are you going?”

“To find JFK!”

~~~~~~

Mr. Sheepman always took his lunch at 12:00 on the dot and was back promptly at 12:50. That meant his classroom was empty, but locked up tight, for almost an entire hour everyday and no one expected to be able to enter. This made it the perfect place for quick hookups between classes for those bold enough to attempt entry. Ponce, however, didn’t need to attempt. He could go anywhere in Clone High anytime he wanted thanks to a little master key he’d swiped from his dad a few years back. Being the janitor’s son had some perks. The greaser waited out in the hall for the hybrid teacher to leave before creeping over and unlocking the door. JFK always got out of physics class a couple minutes late so he showed up shortly after and Ponce let him in. They didn’t bother to lock the door. Everyone just assumed it was locked so no one would bother attempting to enter the room. 

This had been JFK’s idea. Something about sneaky around school seemed to wind him up and if he was being completely honest, it thrilled Ponce too. Over the past month, when they’d started to get physical (they’d agreed to try and take it slow. Mostly because it was awkward to try and put ‘the moves’ on your best friend turned lover. Though they had only been going out for a few months now, by JFK’s track record this was taking it slow) they developed a system for sneaking around school that had left them both satisfied. 

Ponce hopped up and took a seat on top of one of the desks and asked, “Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine.” JFK replied quickly. Ponce wasn’t going to try and argue with him about it. If JFK wanted to be on the giving-end, who was he to complain? Realizing how fast he was in answering his boyfriend’s question JFK coughed and nonchalantly added, “Pretty sure it’s mine.”

“Sweet.” Ponce replied and undid the zipper on his pants. “I’ll make it up to you this weekend. They’re playing a double feature down at the drive-in. You in?”

JFK knelt down on the floor in front of Ponce and looked up at him, “What’s playin’?”

“The Day the Earth Stood Still and the Blob.” 

“Original or remake?”

“Original. I know you have a thing for Steve McQueen.”

“He looks like you.” Jack pointed out. He’d made the comparison before, back when they weren’t dating, but Ponce couldn’t see it. He still couldn’t see it but it made Jack happy so he smiled and nodded. “I have a type. At least with dudes I do.”

Jack took Ponce’s cock out and took the tip into his mouth. He moaned around it, swirled the head around with his tongue and slowly took more and more of Ponce into mouth, all the while looking up at Ponce with those big doe eyes. 

Ponce buried one of his hands in JFK’s hair and used the other to steady himself on the desk. “Holy shit babe...” 

JFK took Ponce out of his mouth with a wet pop, “Don’t finish on my face this time. I don’t have time to clean up before my next class.” He warned the other and then ran his tongue along the length of his boyfriend’s cock before taking him back into his mouth once again. 

“Duly noted.” Ponce replied with a low groan, “Ah fuck.”

For someone who had never had a boyfriend before, Jack was a pro at sucking dick. Maybe it was because he’d been on the receiving end of so many blowjobs, maybe he was really in tune with Ponce, whatever the reason he knew exactly what he was doing. He sucked, he ran his tongue around the length and over the slit, and he’d do it all while looking up at his boyfriend like he was some sort of God to be worshipped. Those fucking doe eyes were going to be the death of the greaser. “You’re so good at this babe...” Ponce mumbled and ran his hand along Jack’s cheek. He could feel a familiar heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Fucking beautiful.”

The door to the classroom slammed open and Abe Lincoln stood imposing in the doorway, “JFK we need to tal-OH MY GOD!”

JFK flung himself backwards onto the floor and Ponce fell backwards off the desk. He hit the floor hard causing him to groan in pain but Ponce couldn’t think too much about that now. He was too busy trying to stuff himself back into his pants. “What the fuck!?” 

Jack wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and glared daggers up at Lincoln who looked like he wanted to pour bleach into his eyes. “Fuck off!”

“Aww shit!” Lincoln cried out and stepped back out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Both boys could still hear the lanky teen mumbling out in the hallway. “Aww fuck! Aww Shit! Aww fuck!”

Jack climbed up off the ground and wandered over to where Ponce was still laying on his back in pain just staring up at the ceiling. He offered the greaser a hand getting up and Ponce hissed in pain at the movement. That was going to hurt tomorrow. “Son of a-“

There was a knocking sound on the other side of the door followed by Abe calling, “...You two good? Can I come in?”

Ponce and JFK exchanged looks. Should they let the guy in, try and get him to explain himself? JFK sighed, “I mean I wish you wouldn’t but we have clothes on if that’s what you mean.”

Abe entered the room with one hand covering his eyes despite JFK’s assurance that they were clothed and expecting him. He peaked through the fingers and upon seeing that both boys were, in fact, fully dressed, lowered his hand. “I’m...I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were...” Abe started to say. 

Jack wasn’t having it. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at the other boy. “You should be.”

“Babe.” Ponce was annoyed by Lincoln’s intrusion just as much as Jack but they shouldn’t have been tearing him apart without hearing Abe’s explanation. He wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, hoping it would relax him before asking, “What’s up Link?”

“I Uh...I wanted to talk to JFK about Cleo...” 

Jack raised an eyebrow. What did the queen bee of Clone High have to do with all of this? “What about Cleo?” He asked. 

“I was going....gonna tell you to stay away from her but I guess I got my wires crossed...”

JFK sighed and mumbled something about how unbelievable the situation was under his breath before saying, “Yeah you did. I ain’t been messing around with Cleo. I’ll have you know that I am monotonist with Ponce here. Have been for months.”

Abe gave the other presidential clone a look that was sure to start another fight and, having had enough of this, Ponce quickly stepped between them. “Monogamous, babe. I don’t think monotonist is a word.” The greaser said softly, hoping the change in tone would calm Jack down a bit. 

“Are you sure? Doesn’t it mean, like, a religion with only one god?”

“That’s monotheistic, Jackie Boy. And what would it have to do with us?”

“I don’t know. I thought I had something.” Jack exclaimed. “So what’s your deal Lincoln?”

“Well it’s pretty silly now considering...” Abe tried to explain, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I just found out that Cleo had started dating someone and I just assumed that it was JFK.” 

“Lincoln, seconds ago I had my bestfriend’s dick in my mouth.” Jack reminded him and Abe quickly looked away to avoid making any eye contact with the other boy out of embarrassment. “I’m done with Cleo.” 

“Right, right. See I didn’t know about the dick thing until I saw it...” Lincoln started to back away towards the door. Neither Jack or Ponce did anything to stop him from leaving. “I’m going to go.”

“Yeah, you do that.” JFK said after him. Abe sucked back out into the hall but, either out of forgetfulness or in some final act of spite, left the door to the classroom open. JFK groaned and rubbed his forehead feeling the beginning of a migraine coming on. “That fuckin’ guy.”

One of these days JFK and Lincoln we’re going to get into an all out fistfight behind the school. It was no secret to the entire student body of Clone High that they hated each other. Until that day came, everyone just had to wait and deal with the growing tension between the two. Ponce managed a small smile and leaned over to kiss Jack’s cheek. “I know. Just a few more weeks and you won’t have to see him again for nearly three months.”

“Mmm summa...” JFK said with a dreamy little smile of his own. “You goin’ to come with me to the beach this year or crawl back into your little vampire cave?”

“I don’t like the sun. Doesn’t make me a vampire.” 

“Vampire.” JFK teased. “Vampire, vampire, vampire, vampire, vampire-“

Despite being the but of the joke, Ponce laughed. “You’re a child.” 

“What does that make you then?” JFK asked and moved in closer, going for another kiss. Before he could though, the couple was interrupted yet again. Mr. Sheepman loomed in the doorway, a coffee cup in one hand and newspaper tucked under the other,

“Mr. Kennedy? Mr. De Leon? What are you boys doing in my office?” He asked and blew some steam away from the fresh cup of java he’d gotten for himself. 

“Oh! Mr. Sheepman, Hey!” Ponce had to think quickly. He grabbed a book that someone had left over after Sheepman’s last class and held it up for the teacher to see. “I left my social studies textbook in here after class. We just came in to get it. Don’t worry we’ll be leaving now!”

The greaser grabbed a hold of JFK’s arm and pulled him out of the classroom andinto the hallway before their history teacher could find any reason to object. Good old Mr. Sheepman though, after years of dealing with shithead teenagers he had grown numb to their antics. The hybrid clone took a seat behind his desk and opened his paper, completely unaware or interested in the sudden departure of the two boys. “Oh, alright. Just don’t let it happen again.” He said, unaware that they had already left. 

~~~~

Abe and Gandhi both had biology after the lunch. Gandhi showed up on time and took his seat near the back, and waited for his best friend to arrive. Abe hadn’t eaten with him at lunch, and something about that put the shorter boy on edge, but all of his fears disappeared when the lanky teen entered the classroom in a crowd of kids returning late from lunch and sat down beside Gandhi. There was no ‘hello’, no ‘how was your lunch’, instead Abe jumped to the thought that had been plaguing his mind since he’d discovered it. “Did you know that Ponce and JFK are doing it?”

So Abe had really tried to confront the presidential clone about Cleo, huh? If he had only just asked Gandhi would have had no qualms about discussing the various changes that occurred in Abe’s absence. “They’ve been dating for a while now dude,” He explained. “In fact they started going out right after you left.”

“Huh. Well I didn’t see that coming.” Abe said stating the obvious. When the news had come out that JFK was dating his best friend, opinions around the school seemed to pool into two factions: those who couldn’t believe that the womanizer would ever be interested in someone of the same sex, and those who saw it coming from a mile away. While Gandhi fell into the latter, Abe fell into the former. “How long do you think that’ll last?”

“They seem pretty happy-“ 

“Yeah but you know JFK. In a couple weeks he’ll be hounding after someone else. I was just thinking. With him off the market there must be a real power vacuum around here with the ladies.”

“I wouldn’t know Abe. I haven’t been looking.” This was beginning to get creepy.Abe had only been back for half a day and there had been no mention of his time in Europe, no questions about Joan or Gandhi or anyone else. It was all about Cleo, all about JFK, all about these kids who couldn’t give two shits about anything Abe had to think of say. Having had enough Gandhi decided to try changing the subject, “Marie is doing really nice, by the way. She looks like she may be valedictorian-“

“Uh huh. That’s nice Gandhi.” Abe said and Gandhi recognized the tone in his voice of being completely uninterested. He got like this at times. When Lincoln set his mind to something it consumed him until the clone believed he’d dealt with it to the full extent that it could be examined. Everything else, whether it be family, friends, or school, took a backseat to his obsession. Realizing it was a lost cause. Gandhi put his head down on his desk. “What I don’t understand is if Cleo isn’t cheating on me with JFK than who is it?”

Abe’s complaints caught the attention of the two students sitting ahead of him and Gandhi. Caesar didn’t respond and kept his attention focused on the work at hand and on his partner but the other boy was not having it. Van Gogh spun around and with a confidence that Abe had never witnessed in the tiny boy before said, “She isn’t cheating on you.”

Seeing as Vincent had gotten involved, Caesar did as well. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and added, “You broke up.” To Vincent’s words and then the two boys returned their attention to their classwork. 

Something about the two boys suddenly struck Lincoln as odd. “Huh.” He said, and whispered to Gandhi. “Is it just me or do Caesar and Van Gogh seem closer than usual?”

At this point Gandhi was convinced that Abe Lincoln was an idiot. “He’s sitting in his lap.” The pacifist clone pointed out. Sure enough, rather than occupying the seat next to Caesar, Vincent had placed himself on the other boy’s lap. How the teacher had yet to notice or why she was allowing it to happen was a mystery to Gandhi. “And they’ve also been dating for a few months now.”

This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Abe bolted up so quickly that Gandhi actually tumbled backwards out his chair in surprise. “I’m gone a couple of months and the entire school decides to go gay!” Lincoln announced and every students’ eyes were on him. “Wait! That’s it! I figured it out!”

Gandhi didn’t bother trying to get up. Something told him the floor was more comfortable at this point in time. “I doubt it but please continue.” 

“Can’t talk Gandhi! I gotta go win my girlfriend back!” Abe shouted and made a mad dash towards the door, the biology teacher chasing after him and screaming for him to stop all the while. Now that Abe had left, Gandhi stood back up and retook his seat. Most of the class had taken to the door to watch their teacher attempt to hunt down their classmate except for Vincent and Caesar. They had turned around in their seat and were looking back at Gandhi waiting for some sort of an explanation. Gandhi just put his head down and tried to answer the question he was stuck on. Today, however, was not going to be a learning day. 

“What was that?” Caesar asked. 

Gandhi decided he would get more done later during his study session with Marie and started to pack up his things into his backpack. “Abe is going to go try and win Cleo back. You guys want to come watch? Catherine will probably kick his ass.”

As much as Vincent still didn’t like Gandhi for that shit he pulled with the teen crisis hotline, the chance of seeing Abe Lincoln get his ass handed to him was too much to pass up. “I’m in.” 

“Let’s go.”

~~~

Cleo, Catherine, JFK and Ponce all had study hall together after lunch. They spent it together in cafeteria since most of the other students were in class or the the library and would be left to their own devices for the period. Sometimes they got work done but most of the time the class was reserved for talking, for gossiping, and for making plans for the weekend. Today, however, it was devoted to talking about Abe Lincoln and how much of a psycho he had become. 

“-He’s bein’ supa weird.” JFK said after finishing his recap of what had happened during lunch. Ponce was leaning against his boyfriend half-listening to the conversation, half-reading. JFK was better at retelling events anyway. “And he’s givin’ me blue balls.”

Catherine, who had yet to experience the newly returned Abe Lincoln in action, just rolled her eyes and took a long sip from the latte she’d purchased over lunch. “Just fuck in your car after class like the rest of us.”

Without looking up from his book Ponce asked, “I thought you were taking it slow.”

“We are.” Catherine explained. “I’m speaking from experience.”

There was a commotion out in the hallway that sounded like something stampeding towards them and the doors to the cafeteria burst open. Abe raced, moving faster than he’d ever been at any track meet, and all but threw himself at Cleo’s feet screaming her name. “Cleo! Cleo!”

The four teens went rigid. Ponce finally managed to sit up and set his book down on the table and subconsciously wrapped an arm around JFK. Catherine’s grip on her latte grew tighter and had she not finished the beverage seconds ago it would have spilled in her hand as she crushed the cup. The queen bee put her head in her hands, “Oh god...”

Abe reached up and grabbed the girl’s hands, pulling them back so he could see her face. “Cleo, I understand now. I understand your rage towards me.”

No one had been expecting that response. By now a crowd of students had gathered in the door to the cafeteria including those present for Abe’s biology class freak out. Somehow despite their late departure from the classroom, Caesar, Gandhi, and Vincent had managed to push their way to the front of the crowd. “Well...good,” Cleo said cautiously. Something was wrong. She could tell. “I hope this means you can move forward in your love life and perhaps in time we can be friends-“

Abe wasn’t finished. He went on, “I know it must have been a confusing time. Everywhere you look there’s your friends and former flames hooking up with same-sex partners. It must have looked very cool, very trendy, and it’s easy for you to have gotten confused in all of this but it’s okay. Abe’s here now. And he’s going to bring you back to the winning team.” 

Cleo was so dumbfounded she couldn’t say a word. Her girlfriend and accompanying friends, on the other hand, had plenty. Catherine slammed her hands down on the table, “What the fuck?!”

From across the room Caesar called out, “Are you implying that Cleo’s sexuality is the result of her wanting to be...trendy?”

“It don’t work like that chowda-head!” JFK screamed at him. 

“Guys, come on. I think I know a little something about homosexuality. I mean, I kissed a dude. Does that make me gay? No. We all get a little mixed up from time to time-“

“Have you had a dick in your mouth?” Vincent asked from across the room. “Don’t talk about homosexuality until you’ve had a dick in your mouth.” 

“Or until you grow a vagina and start eating box.” Catherine added. 

“Gross.” Abe shuddered in disgust at the thought. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that everyone just suddenly came out while I was gone.”

Catherine demanded, “Why do we have to prove ourselves to you? You’re not the boss of us.”

“And a lot of us were already out when you left.” Ponce pointed out. “No one just ever thought to ask or talk to us about it.”

“Well that’s nice and fine for you guys but not for her,” Abe declared. “Cleo’s not gay.”

“How do you know?” JFK asked. The only thing keeping him from socking Abe Lincoln right in the jaw was Ponce who was holding onto Jack for dear life to keep him from jumping into the fight. 

“Because I’m her boyfriend-“

“Ex boyfriend!” Cleo interjected and tried to pry her hands free but once again Abe ignored her. 

“She can’t be gay if she likes men.” Abe said and then pointed an accusing finger at JFK, “And he can’t be gay because he likes girls.” He turned and pointed at Catherine. “And you too!”

That had been enough for Ponce. He retracted his arm from around his boyfriend’s shoulders and JFK surged forward and punched Abe Lincoln square in the jaw. “Bisexual bitch!” He shouted in the other presidential clone’s face. “Respect the B in LGBT!” 

“Ow!” Abe screamed, rolling around on the cafeteria floor and holding his face inpain. When he finally came too and stood back up, the lanky teen glared at JFK. “Well that was uncalled for!”

“Uncalled for?!” Catherine exclaimed, looking ready to jump into the fray herself but Cleo grabbed her arm, “Easy babe. He’s not worth it.” 

“Let’s just see what principal Skudworth has to think about all this!” Abe shouted and began scanning the crowd for any signs of their principal. Sure enough standing near the end of the crowd was the mad scientist himself. “Hey principal Skudworth!”

Skudworth, like the other students gathered by the door, had been more interested in observing the fight than in preventing it. “Yes? What do you want and make it snappy.”

“JFK just punched me in the face-“ Abe exclaimed. 

“Because he was being a homophobe-“ JFK pointed out. He was not going to apologize if that was what Lincoln was looking for. 

“And they’re trying to keep me from seeing my girlfriend-“

“Ex girlfriend!” Cleo interrupted. “I am five seconds away from filing for a restraining order-“

“And you need to punish them for bullying-“ Abe finished his little tyrant with an overly confident nod of the head, so sure in his correctness that he could not imagine anyone disagreeing with him. The other students gathered around the table watched on disbelief. 

“You little snitch!” Catherine finally shouted and went reaching across the table to strangle the lanky boy. Abe jumped out of her way and took the combined efforts of Cleo, along with Caesar and Van Gogh who darted over to the table, to keep her from succeeding in her task of getting ahold of Abe’s incredibly long neck. 

Though his efforts were less violent, Ponce was equally unimpressed with his former friend’s behaviour. “What are you five?” He asked with a scowl. 

Taking all this into account Principal Skudworth came to a conclusion. “I see. Well to the death maze with you then,” he said and Abe let out a triumphant cheer. When no one moved, unsure of who had been sentenced, Skudworth clamped his hand down on Abe’s shoulder. “Go on Lincoln, get going.”

“Me?!” The presidential clone screamed in disbelief. “But I didn’t do anything?!”

“I overheard your last remarks.” Skudworth states. “Bullying and stalking I’ll allow in this school but homophobia has no place in these halls. As an active member of the Exclamation GSA I will not stand for it.”

“Principal Skudworth you’re gay?!”

“Lincoln I’m a 5’6, thin man in his early forties who has a long standing love/hate relationship with John Stamos, an attraction to furries in drag, a desire to be prom royalty, and who lives alone with a sexy robot man-servant. Did you really think I was straight?” 

Abe looked ready to say something really controversial when a a giant tube descended from the ceiling and sucked him up into the death maze before disappearing once more. The audience that had amassed to watch the spectacle slowly headed out into the halls, leaving the four seated at the cafeteria table along with Caesar, Van Gogh, and their principal. 

“Wow.” Cleo said, grateful that all of this was finally behind her. “Thank you Principal Skudworth!”

“Thank you!” The other students collectively chimed in. 

“You’re welcome children.” Skudworth replies cheerfully, patting the nearest student on the head. “Run along my little clone cherubs. Go play in the street or whatever you kids do.”

~~~

Abe tumbled out of the death maze a little after 3 o’clock that day. Classes were getting out and no one stopped to pay attention to the tall, lanky boy who fell out from one the pipes in the ceiling and onto the floor. Abe slowly got to his feet and brushed himself off. “That hurt.” He mumbled to no one in particular. No one stopped to talk to him. Everyone kept walking but at the very end of the hall Abe spotted a familiar face. He took off bounding down the hall calling after her, “Hey Joan! You always liked me right? Well I was thinking we could-“

By now the entire school had learned about Abe’s freak out and had grown wise to his actions. Joan just waved him off and kept walking, “Sorry Abe but I moved on. I have plans tonight for a double date with my boyfriend and some friends.”

“Move on? But who could possibly relate to you more than me?”

Jésus Christo, George Washington Carver, And Moses rounded the corner and caught up with Joan. To Abe’s horror Moses placed his arm around the goth’s shoulders and kissed her cheek, “Hello darling,” he greeted her. “Ready to go?”

“Yep. Just wrapping things up here.” Joan said gesturing to Abe. 

Jésus clicked his tongue is disappointment, “Death maze. Thats harsh bro. You have my pity.”

George rolled his eyes and it was at that moment that Abe noticed that he and Jésus were holding hands. He considered saying something about another couple men falling into Clone High’s latest trend but remembering JFK’s powerful blow to his face, decided against it. “You hear what he said about homosexuality this afternoon?” George reminded the other boy. 

“On second thought you right, you right.” Jésus agreed. “No pity. Homosexuality is a fact of life Holmes.” 

“Damn straight.” Moses said with a nod. 

“Amen brother,” Joan piped in. “Lets get going. The movie starts soon.” 

The two couples kept on walking toward the parking lot and Abe scrambled to keep up with them, “Wait but Joan-“ he called after them but Joan couldn’t hear him. Abe rounded the corner and ran straight in Gandhi. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Gandhi said. “What now?”

“Cleo will come around. I’m sure of it. And then everyone will see that I was right. I’m always right.” Abe started to say when he noticed that Gandhi had given up and was walking towards his car. “Where are you going?”

“Party at JFK’s. He invited all his peeps.” Gandhi was quick to add. “Not you though.”

“You’re one of his ‘peeps’!” Abe exclaimed. “Did the entire world go mad while I was gone?”

“No.” Gandhi replied, “You left and we all realized how much better life was without you around putting us down and making us feel bad.” 

Abe shouted after him, screamed for Gandhi to turn around and come back but the shorter kept on walking. It was about time Abe Lincoln got everything he had coming to him. 


End file.
